Flawless Mask
by penpaninuSessh
Summary: What thoughts does a handsome magician carry? Doubt and fear fills his breast instead of his heart. Howl POV.
1. Chapter 1

Just saw Miyazaki's "Howl's Moving Castle" and was supremely impressed with each and every part of it. Miyazaki is to be commended; he makes the only films animated or otherwise I just SMILE when I watch. He awakens old dreams and inspires my heart. He may not be the best influence for me, but I adore his films. They make me feel like a child in the best of ways.

Got the spelling for names right as I imagine, but if things seem out of sequence, I was going on a lot of thought jumble to write for Howl. Excuse the mess.

Disclaimer: Penpaninu does not own Howl's moving castle. I'm not the talented and rich Miyazaki, nor the imaginative Dianne Wynne Jones. We all have castles to move however.

"Flawless Mask"

by penpaninu

I stumble into the portal door to my castle, trudging up the stairs. My ragtag family is abed and the castle is silent as I collapse into a chair before the hearth. The small fire with a face grinned at me then turned serious. I leaned back, my head on the top of the chair's high back, my long legs stretched before the fire demon. My hair cascaded into midair.

"Howl? What are you doing? You haven't changed back yet!" Calcifer called out in his singsong way. He tried to keep quiet for Sophie's sake. Markl, we knew, could sleep through a hurricane. Besides, his bedroom was up the stairs down the hall. Sophie had been put up in the very next room.

I groaned without opening my eyes and gave my last conscious effort to turn solid. My transparent feathered form flickered, almost gave (Calcifer tried not to panic at the shock of fear that sent him) then turned back into human flesh. I smoothed my dark hair back away from my face, gave Calcifer an exhausted look and trudged toward the stairs. Before I ascended, I poked into Sophie's room. Her young unblemished face showed no worry or fear. I watched her sadly one moment and then turned away.

She was more beautiful than I was and she didn't even know it. I primped myself each morning to look as dashing and handsome as I could. My hair knew more dye jobs than any one person I knew. I liked it golden as the sun, so I kept it that way as long as I could. My bird form mocked my very being, turning me as dark as my hair originally was. I grimaced and ordered the bath water to be turned hot as I stumbled up the stairs. Calcifer grumbled down below but he always obeyed me.

I undress apart from the mirror and sink into the scalding water, my long hair bannering around my face as I half lay in the bath. I was everything physically a girl could want, slim, tall, a face to break hearts and a (mostly) charming manner to make women weep. I could pick my own fragile psyche apart, I thought as I grimaced through one half-slit eye at the ceiling. I made myself as beautiful as I could because I was unwanted, unloved, and ugly. My beast form spoke the truth about that. Once at Madame Suliman's feet, I learned from a scholar whose erratic theory spoke of animal totems detailing a person's origins and path.

Was my beast form, a bird black as a crow, a beggar and an outcast? Did it tell what I truly was? No, I wasn't alone, I had Markl, Calcifer, and…her.

The boy I came along on happenstance. One of my old flings dropped him off at my door (the Kingsbury one) and told me to take him. I had asked wryly if he was mine, and all I got was an intended slap in the face. Magic sure is handy in the face of surprise. Markl was a good kid, and didn't bother me. He remained an excellent pupil and follower, very mature for his age. Sometimes I grin and wonder if he really was my son. He had all the intelligence after all. But that cowlick just had to be tamed.

Calcifer on the other hand, owned part of me. I ate him, and he in return, ate my heart, quite literally. My cheery and half ornery fire demon was by turn, honestly rude, blunt and whiny. How could I ever get along without him. So blessed this wizard is to have such great friends. (cue the sarcasm)

And her…. I sat up in the tub, water cascading from the ends of my hair and drenching my neck further. I dreamed more and more of what I was sure was a memory, Sophie looking young with her hair completely gray and shorn, screaming that she could help me and to find her. 'Find me in the future!' I was sure that's what she said. Well, years had passed and there was no better time than the present, right?

I sighed and hauled my lank form out of the bath. My adult body sometimes frightened me and I did not know why. Maybe it was the stares and calls I received when I made myself up and strolled the towns looking for a girl to play with. Maybe it was my absent heart, but either way, I did not feel content unless I was abed in my child-like room. Or covered in feathers and razor-sharp talons attacking battle ships.

Strange how Sophie blushed every time she saw me. When she lets herself slip, and her true age showed, she is so beautiful. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a pig, age is beauty and all that fine philosophy. I just can't see myself opening myself to her when she is not her full self. Sophie takes her curse as the burden it was meant to be, hiding herself away behind a mask of lines and wisdom. True, her enthusiasm for us all is spellbinding even as an old woman. She fears not what others will think of her when she is someone she is truly not.

But where I hide myself behind beauty, she hides herself behind age. We both hide from ourselves and each other and sometimes it makes me sick. I know she cares for me, and does not fear my true form. So she cares for a beast man and does not mind I am slowly dying when I become myself. The bird is part of me and within me, and she cares not when her hands touch my feathered face and chest. She knows I am inside him and will protect her.

My heart feels empty and hollow as I dry my pale form off and trudge to my bedroom, my fingertips drawing protective wards behind me as I closed the door. The towel falls damply to the floor and I tug on a dressing gown, falling onto the fluffy comforter. Like a child, I curl my knees toward my chest, the gown pulling taut over my thighs. Life did not love me, and neither did anyone else. I'm sure Markl cared over me as much as a kid could, and Calcifer cared that I live so he could.

But Sophie….how could she care for me at all? I am a man-child, too immature to be taken seriously outside of public affairs, and too insecure to try to seek her out in private. My heart bubbled merrily in the coals of the hearth down below, hot where I was cold inside.

And yet, when she sits at my bedside and speaks in her gravelly old voice, I am comforted. One day I will help her be happy, for it would help me feel what my lost heart surely did in the fires of Calcifer. I want to love her, but I am scared.

I yawn and draw a line in midair, extinguishing the candles where I lay. Tomorrow I would deepen the golden dye in my hair and keep it that way as long as I could. Markl would need instruction in banishing wards, and Calcifer would need talking to about cooking. Sophie could sit and relax, let magic do the chores for her for a change.

And I, I would turn the door to black and try and do something good. Even if it killed more of me each time I went there.

End

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Penpaninu 3/05/06


	2. Her Point of View

Howl continues to move me. Each line of animation is crisp. Each dubbed word is awe-inspiring and perfect. Each voice actor I approve of. Hell, we know Emily Mortimer is hot. And her voice is too.

Disclaimer: penpaninu does not claim to own Howl's Moving Castle, anime or novel.

"Her Point of View"

by penpaninu

He is such a child, my darling husband. Many girls may have once dreamed of wedding such a mysterious man and quite the handsome wizard, but they went for his outward charm, the mystique his reputation held for the fluttering hearts of foolish young women. Through being old I got to know his heart, literally fluttering in the bowels of Calcifer's heat, and I grew to love him so.

Howl leans against the railing of our now flying castle, his shoulder-length dark hair flowing in the breeze. He poses almost for me, his delicate chin on his fist and I pause to admire his pleasing physique, the trim lines of his fit body, the trace of his slim hips behind his belt and tunic. His legs were long and lean, and his eyes bright blue with mischief and wonder. I sigh, feeling the first flutterings I felt seeing the beauty of such a mysterious reputation up close. Howl for all of his primping in the bathroom when I first got to the castle, truly did not know his own beauty and worth, I thought. He sought to make himself more handsome, when he already was, and he hadn't realized this.

Just the small trace of his delicate fingertips against his cheek, or the mere parting of his lips were enough for me to know his worth. He needn't whisk me away or steal my heart figuratively. He held it in his affections and his heart now beating strongly in his breast.

"Howl," I call, picking my way out onto the high platform in the sky. Howl turns from the railing and smiles so kindly for me.

"Sophie. Careful now, watch your step. I couldn't bear for anything to happen to you," He croons, holding one smooth hand out. Like so many times before, I take it, and stand by his side looking down at the world we fly over in our travels. Laughter from Markl, and barking from Hein we hear across the way in the castle's garden courtyard. They could see us if they chose to look up, but we don't mind. Even when Howl tilts my chin up with his thumb and leans to kiss me, I don't mind the audience.

It is only when our erstwhile child and pupil calls out a mushy statement followed by mocking retching do we part and smile into each others close proximity. Howl chuckled and pressed his brow against me, under the wide brim of my summer hat.

"Are you feeling well?" he whispered and I nod, my face bright red from the implications of such a simple question. Howl, for all of his apparent womanizing in the past, held a child's prospective of relationships even when dubbed as a playboy. He had never pressed his body against another's, never been inside another girl. And I was the lucky woman to have all of him when we exchanged hearts and vows. Wizardry has its advantages for finding knowledge and when his heart returned granted him the longings of the flesh for me, Howl studied almost endlessly to know what to do, how to do it and when.

I suppose I was flattered, but I had not frame of reference. I knew only him and welcomed him with fervent longing. My darling feared I would not want him unless he had all the facts, but they say experience heighten the learning. This proved the case, shall I mention politely, into the activities of our marriage bed. I fear my husband would find me wanting more than he could give, but when it was his heart…it was enough.

The initiation into true adulthood seemed to awaken a fierce fire in my Howl. He would find times throughout the day to touch me, kiss me or hold me. Sometimes he wanted to embrace me sweetly. Sometimes he wanted me with raw passion and I reciprocated his moods with longing of my own. We were rapidly learning more about each other and ourselves in each caress and touch given freely and we reveled in it.

Howl, also was blessed with the strong paternal pride most felt as they advanced in age. He doted on Markl with stubborn tenacity, almost to the boy's detriment. But Markl had loved Howl long before his ascension into manhood, and accepted his master's queer new affections with open arms and sly words. My erstwhile son loved us both with a heart as bright as Calcifer's flames, and when he told me we were a family, this was what he meant.

Howl holds me from behind and follows my swaying gait back along the railing down to the courtyard. Markl called out happily to us and bent down to tug on Hein's ears. The small dog took the abuse with noble affection and his snort was the only inclination to how he felt to being treated like a toy. Markl reached down to hug him and Hein panted. I blush as my husband's presence indicates his playful mood and he nips at the side of my neck as we walk along.

"Husband, they'll see," I giggle as we near the courtyard. Howl chuckles against me and spans my waist with his hands. I was as trim and young as ever, even with hair as silver as starlight, and Howl was ever fascinated with how I showed him my true self. He showed me his, I thought as I angle an arm up and behind my head to clutch his neck. My fingers sifted through dark hair as black as a crows. Howl finally decided to stop hiding himself behind beauty, and showed me his true self as well. Granted, he was already handsome, but he had hated his dark hair for the vast majority of his life. I much preferred him black as a crow instead of blond as the sun. Even that horrible carrot-color that one mishap in the bath created was more preferable than blond to me.

How my husband finally grew up, in the natural shade of his hair, the way he took good care of us, and in his personal belongings. Gone were the childish trappings and charms of his bedroom, housed to suit his wife as well as his new view of the world. I decorated with simple furniture of dark tones to complement his dark hair and my silver. Howl kept his old clutter to a minimum kept only in the study he shared with Markl, the small charms scattered about gave a look at a man trying to hold onto at least a piece of a childhood gone.

Howl still holds me from behind as we march into the sitting room. It looks out onto the garden courtyard where Markl and Hein wrestle and tussle in the grass. Snoring sounded from the table where the Witch of the Waste napped and Howl shakes his head, his long hair tickling my neck.

"She's fast asleep. Tell me you don't want me close, Sophie," Howl smiles, sure in my love for him. Most people hold themselves back from truly giving all of them to another, and as such some parts are never revealed. Not so for us, we who had trials of the heart that spanned from Howl's childhood to now. I caress his long dark tresses longingly.

"I do, Howl, but she could wake. You know she is quite perceptive," I pay a compliment to the powerless witch living with our family. Where once I would have paid her back in kind, now I doted on her like the grandmother of our ragtag company. The once Witch of the Waste needed us and in turn, she became a rather sweet and helpless old lady in her dependency on us.

Howl nods against my neck and slowly releases me. We dance around each other almost as we go about meaningless chores and tasks. The grace of my husband's movements never cease to amaze me and I promise, I try not to swoon at the sincerity of his actions towards me. Sometimes I felt as dumbstruck still as morning one living with him. How beautiful he was, and how kind he was to a seemingly old woman. He knew I was obviously under a spell but let the nature of our adventure see it lifted through.

Markl crashes in from the grass and hugs my slim waist affectionately. I sigh happily and run my fingers through his brown hair.

"Markl," I greet him happily. My boy looks up my body and grins.

"Are we having lunch yet? I'm starving, Sophie!" he exclaimed. I laugh and ruffle his cowlick further.

"We shall. Will you wake the Witch? Howl, can you bring that tea here?" I ask with smooth authority. Howl obliges and helps me set the table. The witch opened her eyes and yawned.

"Oh my, did I nod off?" she asks politely and Markl helps serve her. Howl holds a chair out for me and presses a kiss to my cheek as I sit. I smile radiantly for my husband and beckon he sit by my side. Howl opens a thick tome, notes falling out of the place marked as he nibbled at a sandwich. I raise an eyebrow as Markl unconsciously follows his example.

"Hey! No studies at the lunch table!" I scolded my family. Howl and Markl grinned at me with sheepish expressions and as one unit snapped their thick books shut. Hein barked at the loud snips and begged for a cookie. I pretend not to notice when Markl sneaks him one.

End for now

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Penpaninue 3/09/06


	3. Through his Eyes once more

Disclaimer: Penpaninu does not claim to own Howl's Moving Castle in novel or animated form. I mean the rights! I do own a copy of both…

"Flawless Mask" chapter three

"Through his Eyes once more"

I prop my dark head on my hand and lean to watch my wife sleep. As before, she looks so young and vulnerable while dreaming. My Sophie always slept on her left side if she could help it, her hands pressed against the pillow near her red cheek. As always I smile and lean to kiss that warm cheek. Her breathing evens out and she sighs contently. Her body housed in a white matronly nightgown could not keep her from me and I ease her back into my arms. When her head falls back against my heart housed in flesh, she is roused from sleep.

"Howl?" she asks softly. I kiss her neck with growing passion and my wife stirs against me, sighing. Her hands tighten over mine and our fingers entwine. We can both feel our hearts beating as one unit as we move closer together.

"It's nothing, my heart. Go to sleep." But I am pleasantly surprised that my wife would not heed my words and press back against me. Markl throws something at our bedroom door at the noise we make.

>>>>>>>>

Mrs. Jones was a nervous client who always wanted pregnancy spells and charms made. She was a regular, and quite possibly, a regular addict of wanting children. I myself could never understand why anyone would want a bundle of mess and noise, but lately, found myself lingering over the notion. Markl still needed strict attention and this brought out my more fatherly instincts.

Still, Mrs. Jones was well off monetarily and our family could always use the money. I was resolved to just make pregnancy noise-charms and throw them her way when she came to inquire to the spells. They would go off and ring all the more annoyingly if she came with child.

The Witch of the Waste stirred and opened one sleepy eye as I walked through the sitting room, charms in hand. "You may want to carry those past Sophie," she suggested in her cryptic way. I stand there, tall and confused as the Witch winked and went back to sleep. Sometimes old women had funny notions.

I pass my wife and almost double over as the charms sound. They were louder than church bells. I grimace and drop them, putting my hands to my ears. Sophie looks up, her face beautiful but confused.

"Howl, what are you doing with those?" she asked. I grin sheepishly at the matronly authority and stoop to pick up the talismans and charms. They were clinging together and generally giving me a headache. Sophie regarded me with one finely arched eyebrow.

"Husband, do I have to ask?" she asked. I couldn't stop looking up and down her slim form.

"Do I?" I retort, and drop the confounded project. They jangled and protested as I wrap Sophie in my arms. "Is there a change in you?"

"Howell Jenkins, have you lost your mind?" Sophie isn't angry however, laughing as I pick her up and twirl her in a circle. Her feet left the floor. "Why are you going on about a change in me when you're acting crazy!"

I rub my cheek against hers and seek her lips in a kiss. Sophie murmurs against my noble affections and kisses me again. Footsteps pounded up the stairs near us and we hear the dim exclamations of a young boy.

"Are you two at it AGAIN?" We turn to see our boy tapping one foot imperiously on the wooden floor. I smile indulgently to my student and reach to ruffle his hair. It stood up even higher in the back.

"What's a married couple without their marital bliss?" Sophie commented offhand. I blush an unstately red, allowing Markl to find mirth in my shy appearance.

"We'll track you and your sweetheart down if you don't back down," I suggest merrily. Markl waves both hands rapidly.

"I guess I left myself open for that one. Have you seen those pregnancy charms? Mrs. Jones wants them pronto," Markl announced. I sigh and gesture to the floor. My student gives an exaggerated sigh and stoops to collect my discarded work. Once he held them up near Sophie, they clanged and jangled annoyingly. I turn red in the face and scrub my neck with one fist as Sophie and Markl turn on me almost in accusation.

"She's/I'm pregnant?" They both said at once. I put both hands on my slim hips and laughed aloud with the merriment of it all. And then I felt the warmth coursing through me of the pride that I had made my wife this way. Paternal instinct. It had to be. I guess I was finally grown up enough for it.

Sophie stopped me with two fists beating against my thin chest.

"Wife, whatever are you doing?" I pause between laughs. Sophie pouted up at me and beat me again.

"Why didn't you just tell me that's what you meant by change? Sometimes you are impossible!" She had to have conceived but recently for her not to notice any major change. Oh well, that's why wizardry is so preferable to mundane methods. We got the facts a lot quicker.

"How long before you're huge?" Markl's eyes bugged out as he assessed Sophie's flat stomach. I ruffle his hair and laugh aloud again when his small hands caress his surrogate mother's belly through her dress.

"Not 'til later, I hope!" Sophie exclaimed. She hugged Markl and ran a gentle hand through her hair and my heart softened to mush once more. How many times had I myself known this loving gesture, this simple affirmation that she cared? I promise, it is the simplest things that remind me of my heart's depth for her.

"No matter how round you get, you won't keep me away," I vow and am satisfied to see the blush on my wife's face. Markl groaned.

"If Lettie and I get that way, hit me over the head!" he groaned.

"I just might…" I promised warily. Markl yelped and dashed downstairs with the charms for Mrs. Jones.

End for now

The novel stated that Markl had been seeing Lettie Hatter, so that's where that came from for this story. Like it, hate it? Send a review! Takes a few seconds

Most sincerely penpaninu 3/18/06


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